Page 81 of Snared Rider

Chapter Twenty-One

I fallasleep midway through the movie. I blame exhaustion, medication and the stress of the past few days.

When I wake, the room is dark. The only light is coming from the TV, which is playing the DVD menu on a loop.

Dean is also absent from the end of the sofa where he had been sitting before I drifted off. In my defence, I did try to stay awake, but the uncontrollable lull of sleep had been too hard to fight.

I stay still for a moment before I finally build up the energy to slowly start moving. Lying in one position for so long has made my chest ache and my body stiff, so it takes a little manoeuvring to unlock my muscles and sit up.

By the time I get to my feet, I’m hurting. I’m due to take more painkillers, so I head towards the kitchen for a drink.

If you didn’t know the clubhouse was an old warehouse you would never guess from the inside. There isn’t a hint of corrugated iron anywhere, even though the outside is covered in it. In fact, considering the place was decorated and planned by a bunch of bikers, the aesthetics are surprisingly pleasant.

The walls are painted either in light grey or magnolia, and the floors are laminated wood, giving the interior a modern edge.

It’s homey, which is not something you would expect from a motorcycle club’s headquarters, but for many brothers this is their home—and it is their only home. I’m not sure who lives here permanently anymore but there were a few full timers when I was growing up.

This makes the silence as I move through the building eerie. Where the hell is everyone? Usually the clubhouse is a hive of activity. Tonight, I navigate the narrow corridors seeing no one. None of the recreation rooms are occupied and there is no sound coming from the bar as I pass the doors. I’ve never known the building to be so quiet.

I wonder if Dean and Clara are still in the building somewhere as I pass the offices where I’m sure Logan will be. There are more lights on down this end of the building, but there is still no sound. The stillness is disconcerting and, truthfully, I don’t like it. The need to see another human, even if it is Logan, is overwhelming. I move quietly on bare feet and pause at the end of the corridor.

There are six rooms in total. Plaques on the doors read ‘Vice President’, ‘Treasurer’, ‘Secretary’, ‘Road Captain’ and ‘President’. The office between VP and Treasurer says ‘Sergeant-at-Arms’, Logan’s rank.

I pause when I hear voices coming from one of the rooms—Logan’s office. This isn’t surprising; I expected Logan would be down here, but the fact he’s talking out loud suggests he’s not alone.

I catch the tail end of his words as I edge closer to the room.

“…track him that way?”

“I don’t know, Lo,” another voice, one I don’t recognise, says. “It’s not a case of just mashing the keyboard and hitting enter. These things take time to navigate without getting caught.”

I shouldn’t listen, I know this. I grew up in this life. Listening is a big no-no, but I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told and curiosity forces my feet to move closer to the door. I’m desperate to know what is going on, particularly since this affects me. If the Club wasn’t being so tight-lipped I wouldn’t need to listen, would I?

Feeling only a modicum of guilt, I shift closer to the door, so I can hear them more clearly.

“How much time?” Logan sounds irritated.

There’s a pause, then, “A couple more hours, maybe longer. It depends what firewalls they have in place. I have to get into the bank’s system to track Wilson’s account. Even then there’s no telling if that will give us any info on where he is. He could be using cash for all we know.”

I rear back from the door. What the hell are these boys into?

“We have to find Wilson now, Wade. He’s desperate and he’s pissed off. If he gets hold of Dean what the hell do you think he’ll do to him?”

Wade is the brother who came to Dad’s with Slade the night after my welcome home bash. He didn’t speak much, which is why I don’t recognise his voice.

“I know, mate, believe me, I know, but I can’t make shit happen faster than it can happen. Look, maybe I can get onto this bloke I know. He may be able to do a number plate recognition search and see if we can find his car.”

“That would be a good start,” Logan says.

There’s a pause, then, “I’m guessing Dean’s chomping at the bit. How long do you think he’s going to stay hidden while everyone else is out there putting their arses on the line?”

“He wants this fucker found as much as I do. He’ll do whatever he needs to for that to happen, and for now the best place for him to be is here, out of the way. We need to find Wilson fast. While he’s out there he’s a risk to Dean, the Club and Wilson’s wife.”

Wade snorts. “Wilson’s old lady is safer than all of us put together. Not even MI5 could find her. I made sure of it.”

I wonder where the heck the Club stashed Olivia. Do they have secret safehouses all over the country? The Saxons have allies across the UK, including other motorcycle clubs. It’s possible they placed her with one of them.

“You find this bastard, Wade, and you find him fast. That he’s targeting Dean is bad enough, but he’s seen Beth on the back of his bike. If he thinks she means something to him he might decide to hit Dean another way, through her.”

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